


The Fellowship of Sixteen: Early Drafts of "The War of the Ring"

by morwen_of_gondor



Series: The War of the Ring [3]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Celegorm is probably happier about this than he should be, Curufin is not good with young hobbits, Curufin is very familiar with idiot brothers, Gandalf and Curufin agree with each other, Gen, Maglor is, Most of the Fellowship is terrified of Balrogs, Pippin is an idiot sometimes, the Sons of Fëanor aren't, they find this concerning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:07:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morwen_of_gondor/pseuds/morwen_of_gondor
Summary: In a world where the Sons of Fëanor were sent back to Middle-Earth in the Third Age to atone for their crimes and joined the Fellowship of the Ring, some things in Moria, and down the road, happen differently. Pippin is disconcerted, Legolas is offended, and Gandalf, for once, is not the most experienced member of the Fellowship.Boromir has an interesting day.Clarification: This is not actually a unified story; it's more like a collection of very early first drafts forThe War of the Ring. Each of these chapters could have been the jumping-off point for its own AU. When reading a chapter, feel free to assume that everythingbeforethe events you are reading happened more or less as in the books, give or take seven elves. What comes after, I leave to your imagination. If anyone wants to take one of the plots and run with it, I'd love to find out what you think might happen.
Relationships: Curufin | Curufinwë & Gandalf the Grey, Curufin | Curufinwë & Peregrin Took, Maglor | Makalaurë & Peregrin Took
Series: The War of the Ring [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679146
Comments: 25
Kudos: 114





	1. Of Hobbits, Wells, and Wizards

_Pippin felt curiously attracted by the well. While the others were unrolling blankets and making beds against the walls of the chamber, as far as possible from the hole in the floor, he crept to the edge and peered over. A chill air seemed to strike his face, rising from invisible depths. Moved by a sudden impulse he groped for a loose stone,_ and was on the verge letting it drop when icy fingers with the strength of iron closed around his hand. He raised his head and met Curufin’s eyes. At the best of times, Curufin was not his favourite member of the party. There might not be anyone better to have at your back in a battle than a son of Feanor, but this one did not make for a pleasant travelling companion. He was silent more often than not, and he had a disquieting habit of looking at you like he knew exactly what you were thinking and found it rather distasteful. He turned that look on Pippin now, and hissed softly, "What are you doing?"

Pippin abruptly found himself without words. "Um…er…what?" was all he could manage. Curufin repeated, "What were you doing with that stone?" 

"Oh, this, I was just…"

"I have brothers, Peregrin. You were not just anything."

"I … I wanted to know how deep the well was."

Their whispered conversation had drawn Gandalf's attention, and at Pippin's answer, he scowled. _"Fool of a Took!" he growled. "This is a serious journey, not a hobbit walking-party. Throw yourself in next time, and then you will be no further nuisance. Now be quiet!"_

"Better yet," Curufin said, "Throw all of us in after it, and we will not be troubled by whatever evils your foolish stone rouses from the darkness under the mountain! Foolish child! Do you think that our little band of merry-makers can achieve what Finrod and his Ten could not? Or do you still think that the world is your friend? Our only hope is in secrecy! Was waking the Watcher not enough mischief?"

Now thoroughly mortified (and beginning to be terrified of whatever it was Curufin seemed to think was down the well), Pippin managed a "Sorry" under his breath, and under the joined gaze of Elf and Wizard, retreated to his bedroll, and dragged it as far away from the well as he could get. As a result, he missed the glance of deep disquiet which passed between the two as they discovered that they had agreed on something. At least, Curufin was disquieted. Gandalf seemed more amused than anything.

Pippin did not expect Maglor to follow him and lie down between him and the well, and was rather hurt when he did. "I’ll leave it alone now, all right?" he whispered.

"Of course you will. But my brother has always misjudged the sharpness of his tongue, and perhaps he is better at making others fear than he knows. He did it to the people of Nargothrond, and they were no cowardly race. I thought you might like company."

"Oh," Pippin said, because there seemed nothing else to say. "Thank you." 

He found it much easier to go to sleep with Maglor’s solid form between him and the well.


	2. Drums in the Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gandalf, for once, is not the most experienced member of the fellowship, Legolas is offended, Gimli is impressed, and everyone realises that Maglor is really the scary one (at least one of the scary ones).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably not going to be developed further, though I do have another non-Moria scene written for this little AU, because WOTR showed up and I'm actually giving serious consideration to what would happen with the Fëanorions in Middle-Earth, but this is fun, so have it anyway.

Gimli still knelt by Balin’s tomb, his head bowed: Legolas and Caranthir carried him bodily out of the Chamber of Mazarbul. _Boromir_ and Celegorm _hauled the eastern door to, grinding upon its hinges: it had great iron rings on either side, but could not be fastened._

_"I am all right," gasped Frodo. "I can walk. Put me down!"_

_Aragorn nearly dropped him in amazement. "I thought you were dead!" he cried. "Not yet!" said Gandalf._ Caranthir broke in, "We’ve stayed too long. Move."

"Quite right," Gandalf answered. _"Off you go, all of you, down the stairs! Wait a few minutes for me at the bottom, but if I do not come soon, go on! Go quickly and choose paths leading right and downwards."_

_"We cannot leave you to hold the door alone!" said Aragorn,_ before Celegorm could come up with something particularly injudicious.

_"Do as I say!" said Gandalf fiercely. "Swords are no more use here."_

"Speak for yourself, Olorin," Celegorm cried. Curufin trod heavily on his foot, silencing him, and took over, "The smiths of the Gondolodrim were once accounted second only to my family, but mayhap the virtues of their blades fade as the years pass. Ours have not, and the blades of Gondolin once tasted the blood of Valaraukar. Or have you forgotten Rog and the Hammer of Wrath? What fear then shall we have of Orcs?"

Gandalf’s eyes flashed, and it might not have been well with either of them, but a great voice cried, "Fools! Will you argue over blades until the falling rocks slay all of us? Then, indeed, swords will be no use! Let us begone!"

Even the Maia stepped back before Maglor’s rage, and his brothers were utterly silenced. Merry and Pippin made haste to obey his instructions, and Aragorn swiftly gathered the rest of the Fellowship to follow.

Down the dark stair now they all went, as swift as might be, all save Gandalf and Maglor, who remained by the door, illuminated by the faint light of Gandalf’s staff. Frodo swayed where he stood, and Sam put an arm around him. He could hear the echoes of Gandalf and Maglor’s voices running down the roof, making a complicated braided sort of music of which he could only catch snatches. The words he could not understand at all. The drums every now and again rolled out in the background, and the very walls seemed to tremble. Suddenly the light at the top of the stair flared into a sudden white flame, and the drums rolled wildly as Maglor cried out something in the High-Elven tongue that made all the hairs on Frodo’s head stand up as though he had nearly been struck by lightning. There was a slow grinding sound from above, and Gandalf barked something short and stern, and then wizard and elf came flying down the stairs together and landed in the midst of the company, leaning on one another. They were followed by a great rumbling crash and the smell of stone dust in the air.

Gandalf seemed rather shaken, and leaned on Gimli’s shoulder, but nevertheless bade them quickly go on, and lit the dimmest of glow-worm glimmers at the top of his staff, that they might not tumble down the stairs in the utter dark. Maglor spoke with his brothers in a grim voice for a few moments before they followed. Every now and again, the drum-beats rang out again and shook the tunnel, though they now seemed further away. On they went for nearly an hour, occasionally descending a long flight of stairs to another level. _At the bottom of the seventh flight Gandalf halted. "It is getting hot!" he gasped. "We ought to be down at least to the level of the Gates now. Soon I think we should look for a left-hand turn to take us east. I hope it is not far. I am very weary. I must rest here a moment, even if all the orcs ever spawned are after us."_

_Gimli took his arm and helped him to a seat on the step._ Maglor leaned on Celegorm’s shoulder, looking wearier than any of the Fellowship had yet seen one of their strange companions. He stayed thus for a moment, then raised his head and addressed the company: "There is more in this mine than just orcs. I have felt such power before. There is a balrog following us."

Maedhros raised an eyebrow at him. "Only one?"

"One is more than enough!" Gandalf cried.

"One," Celegorm corrected with a predatory smile, "is an opportunity."


	3. The Falls of Rauros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Maglor and Maedhros knows all too well what someone who is unhealthily obsessed with an artefact of power looks like, Celegorm has the good sense to scout around camp before letting the hobbits run off into the woods, and the Uruk-Hai find out how very, very outclassed they are. Boromir may now be an Honorary Feanorian, having definitely passed the required Idiocy Threshold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this is not a polished chapter, so the dialogue and action jump around a bit more than they usually would. Like the last, this is a glimpse of a story that I'm not going to develop any further, which I'm posting just for the fun of it.

Boromir had just set his hand on Frodo’s shoulder when a deep, commanding voice rang out through the clearing. "Boromir, step back!" it said. 

Boromir turned around to confront Maglor, who looked truly terrifying now. Maglor had always been kind to the hobbits, and his songs had been their comfort for many a lonely night on the journey, so it was strange for Frodo to see him as he was now, as a being of ancient and tremendous power. The light of the Trees that always shone in his eyes now burned like flame, and there was an undertone of power in his words that was usually absent. Boromir’s face contorted into a snarl as he cried, "So, son of Feanor, you would take this thing for yourself! Elves indeed cannot be trusted with such a weapon, any more…" What else he would have said Frodo never found out, because Boromir met a mailed left fist and fell like a stricken oak. Maedhros stepped out of the trees and exchanged glances with Maglor, who said, rather indignantly, "I was attempting to calm him down, brother!"

"You would not have succeeded. I know quite well the look of one who has spent too long brooding over an artefact of power."

Maglor shrugged, and answered, "I had to try. I hoped that he was more sensible than we were."

"I must confess that much of Middle-Earth has disappointed me in that respect."

Celegorm had disappeared shortly after their landing, and Curufin had assured everyone that it was perfectly normal and that his brother simply liked to know the lay of the land around anywhere he would be sleeping. He chose that moment to make his reentrance at a run, skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding treading on Boromir’s prone form, and panted out, "Yrch! Get back to camp!"

All three elves sprang into action. Maglor took Boromir’s head and Celegorm took his feet. Maedhros crouched down and motioned for Frodo to climb onto his back. As soon as Frodo had done so, all three elves were flying through the woods at a remarkable speed, considering their burdens. For all that he had been carried down from Caradhras, Frodo found that he did not much like this form of travel, at least not at this speed and somewhere upwards of seven feet above the ground. He closed his eyes and hung on tightly.

Merry and the rest of the Fellowship were wandering around by the water’s edge, trying not to stare after Frodo as they waited for his decision and, at Aragorn and Curufin’s insistence, staying close to the boats. Pippin, Amrod and Amras were skipping rocks across Nen Hithoel, as even Aragorn had been forced to admit it was unlikely that there was anything unfriendly living in this lake, although their hearts weren’t really in the game. (Merry could tell that because Pippin hadn’t put up a fuss when he lost to Amras, and Amras hadn’t even noticed that he had won.) Sam, Curufin, and Gimli were sitting in a loose circle with Merry and looking glum, Legolas was standing, staring off into the trees, and Caranthir and Aragorn were pacing in opposite directions from the boats to the trees and back again, when Maedhros sprinted headlong into camp with Frodo clinging to his back like a monkey, swiftly followed by Maglor and Celegorm carrying an unconscious Boromir between them, not bothering to spare him any jolts.

Maedhros knelt down and Frodo let go of him rather shakily. Maglor and Celegorm unceremoniously dumped Boromir on the ground. The rest of the Fellowship formed up around them, but everyone was momentarily too surprised for questions. Celegorm was the first to speak, and when he did, it was in a clipped tone that admitted no argument. "There is a large party of orcs tracking us down Anduin. They will be here in five minutes or less." Maedhros took over smoothly, "There is no time to deliberate here. The Ringbearer must go to safety, and the orcs cannot know where he has gone. Get your packs and get into the boats. We will shelter ourselves on the opposite side of Tol Brandir and take counsel."

No-one so much as thought of disobeying, not even Legolas, who was not entirely sure that he liked their very emphatically Noldorin companions. Aragorn, Frodo and Sam got the boat with the majority of the baggage in it, and pushed off. Boromir was just coming round, and he found himself very firmly helped into a boat by Celegorm and Curufin, to whom his situation needed no explanation. Maedhros promptly followed them, and levelled a warning gaze at Boromir as his brothers took up the paddles, hand straying to his sword hilt. Maglor made as though to pick up Pippin, perhaps recalling vague memories of very young brothers, checked himself, and shooed him and Merry into a boat instead. The Ambarussar threw various packs helter-skelter into various boats, before Amrod followed Pippin and Maglor, and Amras jumped after Gimli and Caranthir, who did their best to steady their boat as Legolas strung his bow, kneeling in the stern, ready to pick off any orcs that sighted them. They were just clearing the point of the Tall Isle when they heard harsh voices from the western shore. 

The sheer sides of Tol Brandir could not be climbed, but they were not the smooth stone of Orthanc or the walls of Minas Tirith. There were projections from the stone where a boat could be tied, though somewhat precariously. Once they had managed to get all the boats close enough together for their voices to be heard over the endless song of Rauros, the council of war began.

Aragorn, still the leader of the company, began by asking for an explanation of why Boromir had been unconscious. Frodo and Maglor exchanged uncomfortable glances, but before Maedhros could decide that an explanation was necessary for the public good, Boromir spoke. 

"I tried to take the Ring from Frodo. I am sorry. It…it spoke to me of my father, and the fall of Gondor. It said that there was hope if I would only use it for a little while! It said…it made me see my city." He stopped and passed a hand over his eyes.

"I saw what would happen if I did as it said, and it showed me the City full of life again, as I have never seen it — full of colour, and children, and without fear. And then it showed me what would happen if I did not. The White Tree was burning, and my father…" 

He was openly weeping, now, as he finished, "My father and my brother lay dead before the throne, and you" — he looked at Aragorn — "you sat on the throne with the Ring on your finger, and you mocked me." He buried his face in his hands.

Maedhros laid his hand on Boromir’s shoulder, and said gently, "The Enemy was always cunning with such visions, Boromir, and it is by no means easy to resist him."

"What would you know of it? I have dreamed truly before! How should I know that this is not true also?"

"What would I know of it? Boromir, I was imprisoned for by Thauron’s master for thirty years! Do you think that he did not find it amusing to play with his captive’s mind? He showed me my friends dead and their blood on my hands, my father rising from the dead to mock and disown me, my brothers slain because I was too weak to protect them — and that was only Morgoth! He was never subtle. Thauron, Thauron was subtle. His dreams always started in beauty, and the poison came slowly. It was the more painful for that. Be thankful that he sent no such dreams your way!"

"I have sworn to go to Minas Tirith, and thither I will go, alone if the Ringbearer needs the rest of you for companions. I cannot leave my city captainless for the greatest battle of this war."

"My heart draws me to Minas Tirith, but I cannot leave the Ringbearer without guidance."

In the end, it was decided that Sam, Frodo, Gimli and Legolas should make for Mordor while the rest of the Fellowship went to Minas Tirith to prepare, as much as was possible, for the coming war. Celegorm and the Ambarussa had murmured mutinously at this, but Maedhros had put on his Stern Elder Brother look and reminded them sharply that any elf of the First Age in Mordor would stand out like a torch after the Darkening, and they had quieted. Boromir had been largely silent after recounting what had happened between him and Frodo, but broke that silence to insist that something was wrong in Rohan, and that someone should go to set it right. A little questioning from Maglor and Aragorn clarified that there was something strange in the mind of Theoden King, and a few more minutes’ discussion settled that Maglor, as the one most skilled in songs of power and healing, should take a detour to Rohan, along with Aragorn, Merry and Curufin — Aragorn because Denethor was more likely to accept him in the guise of a strange ally of Rohan than as the king of Gondor and Curufin because, as Celegorm pointed out, whatever else you said about the whole Nargothrond fiasco it at least showed that he was good at politics. Curufin hissed something soft and (by the sound of it) rather venomous at him in Quenya, but they stopped when Maglor gave them his Disappointed Face. Merry privately thought that he looked very much like Frodo hearing about his and Pippin’s latest escapades in Farmer Maggot’s fields when he did that. 

The Man in the party was originally going to be Boromir, since he was a familiar ally of Theoden’s and Maglor thought that his presence might be helpful, but Boromir had pointed out that his father was unlikely to accept Aragorn as king without considerable persuasion. The hobbits were none too pleased at being split up, but Maedhros grimly informed the company that the Black Speech which the orcs had been shouting meant "find the halflings," so they needed to put at least one hobbit with each part of the Company, to throw the enemy off the scent. Even Pippin could not muster the courage to ask him how he knew that. This left Boromir with most of the sons of Feanor to go straight to Minas Tirith and put the city in readiness for whatever might be coming. The quickest way there was by river, so they would take the portage-way to the foot of Rauros and make their way to Cair Andros, where Boromir said they were likely to find a garrison from Gondor who would help them.

It was at this point that Sam remarked, "Begging your pardon, but nobody’s told us the way of getting to Mordor, other than east. Surely there’ll be paths somewhere?"

Frodo looked suddenly thoughtful, and answered, "I was thinking of striking out due East in the hope of coming to the Black Gates as soon as possible. I had rather not draw our journey out."

Boromir’s only response was an incredulous, "What?"

Aragorn said grimly, "For the Ringbearer to come within eyeshot of the Black Gate would be unwise indeed."

Maedhros nodded, and added, "If Thauron is in any way like the Enemy of old, his gates will be guarded so that not so much as a fly can slip through, but he will consider the walls of his fortress impregnable. Morgoth could not conceive of anyone, Man or Elf, climbing the walls of Angband or finding a way up the cliffs of Thangorodrim, and yet it was done."

"There is an outpost of Gondor in Ithilien near the Ephel Duath, commanded by my brother Faramir. He is not the kind of man to be tempted as I have been, and he knows the lands of that region well. He will help you, I am sure of it. You can come down the river with our party, and continue down river from Osgiliath. The garrison there will be able to spare you a guide to Faramir, and he will guide you as close to the walls of Mordor as any man can."

"Many men have thought they were sure of safety in handling the Ring, but Gandalf has told us that even the desire of it corrupts the heart. I do not doubt your brother’s worth, Boromir, any more than the valour of the guards of Osgiliath, but is it safe to leave the Ring so long with our folk? I do not trust even myself in this matter."

"My folly was to trust myself. Faramir does not. As for the folk of Osgiliath, they will not be near you for more than a day."

So it was decided that the party would split in two at once, and then the Ringbearer and his companions would go to Ithilien, "and," Curufin added, "let our enemy believe that they are nothing but messengers to the garrison, if he notices them at all."

Then there was much handing about of baggage, as supplies were redistributed to those who would need them most. Lembas, spare water skins and coils of rope went to the Mordor party lest they be separated from the others sooner than anticipated, and anything unnecessary went into the other boats. The handing about of hobbits was somewhat trickier: Legolas and Gimli were in the boat with Caranthir and Amras at the end of the line nearest the tip of Tol Brandir, because Legolas with his bow had been guarding their retreat, while Frodo and Sam were with Aragorn on the opposite end, because the Ringbearer had been taken out of the danger zone first. In the end, Aragorn carefully unmoored his boat, paddled back upstream, and tied up on the other side so that the passengers could simply change places. Hands were shaken, and then the Gondor and Rohan party struck out for the westward shore. The Mordor party was to slip off and make their way to the east bank once the Orcs were too thoroughly occupied to notice their departure. If all went well, the groups would reunite and the Gondor and Mordor parties would journey down Anduin together. If the battle seemed to be going against them, the Mordor party was to set off at once, portage their boat to the foot of the falls as best they could without a clear path, and do their best to remain unnoticed on their journey downriver.

By the time the three boats had cleared Tol Brandir, Amrod, Celegorm, and Aragorn each had an arrow on the string. There was just time for two or three quick shots, while those with the paddles rowed as fast as they could, and those passengers with neither bows nor paddles crouched in the bows, ready to disembark. The uruks were still trying to find out where the arrows were coming from when the first wave, in the form of Amrod, Aragorn and Maedhros, crashed into their flank. After that it was chaos. Merry and Pippin found themselves more or less behind Maglor and Aragorn, but they had their hands full soon enough: the big folk were in less danger themselves as far as Merry could tell, but they couldn’t stop all the orcs, and Merry found himself immensely grateful for those afternoons spent training with Boromir and whichever of Feanor’s sons happened to be nearest. 

He could only catch glimpses of the others in the respites when the uruks had fallen back a little, but those glimpses were very vivid. Celegorm and Curufin fought back to back, a whirling chaos of knives and swords, Celegorm’s face contracted into a snarl as his knives buried themselves in an uruk’s neck and Curufin wearing a mask of calm disdain as his curved blade spun in endless swift arcs, carving a swath through the orcs. (And Merry ducked an orc-blade that was aimed for his head, thrust his sword upwards under the breastplate, and sprang backwards to avoid being crushed beneath his falling foe.) Amrod stood back a little with the hobbits, dispatching any orcs who looked like they might be going for ranged weapons of their own, brow furrowed in concentration, trusting Amras and Caranthir to stop anything that might make it past his swift stream of arrows. (An uruk was coming up on Amras’ left, and Amras noticed a second too late. Merry slashed at the creature’s leg and delayed it just long enough for Amras’ sweeping stroke to take off its head.) Aragorn and Boromir stood side by side, unyielding as a wall, Aragorn on Boromir’s left hand so that the shield provided some protection to both of them. Their long, straight swords dripped black blood onto the sand of the beach. Merry found himself behind them and decided to stay there if at all possible. From his comparatively safe vantage point, he caught a brief glimpse of Maedhros, in the very front of the fight, barely visible through the ranks of the enemy, laughing, a whirl of gleaming sword and flaming hair from whom even the boldest orcs recoiled in fear. Maglor, his jaw clenched grimly, was standing back to back with Pippin (Pippin?!), who seemed to be holding his own. Then Merry had no more time for thought — he ducked to avoid a blade again, found himself standing right behind Boromir, and then he, too, was holding his own with one of the Big Folk to watch his back, and he had just buried his short sword in what seemed like the thousandth orc, sparing a vague thought to hope that Aragorn was still somewhere on his right, and then he and Boromir both whirled around to meet the next attack and found that there were no more orcs.

**Author's Note:**

> As some of you have probably noticed, these works use a mix of book and movie-canon. The primary framework comes from the books, but things like Merry and Pippin being the ones to wake the Watcher in the Water are from the movie, as are some of the characters' speech patterns. So if you see stuff that's not consistent with the book, that's why.
> 
> As usual, comments and feedback are very much appreciated!
> 
> Also as usual, italicised passages are quoted from _The Fellowship of the Ring_.
> 
> Short chapter this week, so to make up for it I posted a bonus chapter in the middle of _The Council of Fëanor_.


End file.
